


Just Like Old Times

by notaroh



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: 1890s, 1896 Olympics, Canon-Atypical Lack of Violence, Gen, Greece, Pre-Canon, Quynh | Noriko (mentioned)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:55:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25459678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notaroh/pseuds/notaroh
Summary: "We're going to Athens."She isn't asking, isn't suggesting. She is telling. And as she says the words, speaking a dialect of Greek so archaic the rest of them have to struggle to understand it, her motley family forgets she's been going by Andrea these days."What are we doing in Athens?" Joseph asks, a little sorry to have to leave this nice house and nicer weather so soon.Andromache tosses the newspaper down on the table and they move to read it, Joseph and Bastien setting their cards down as Nicholas moves the pot off the flame of the stove so he can join them without burning their supper.OLYMPIC GAMES TO BE REVIVED, the headline reads.Or, as the doc I wrote this on is titled, "fic where they go to the 1896 olympics and andy gets nostalgic."
Relationships: Andy | Andromache & Booker | Sebastien le Livre & Joe | Yusuf al-Kaysani & Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Joe | Yusuf al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolo di Genova (mentioned)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 202





	Just Like Old Times

**Author's Note:**

> I had this idea while reading "Why We Swim" by Bonnie Tsui which mentioned these Olympics and I thought, hey! When it comes to historical fiction, the 1890s are my jam, and I'm already in an Old Guard-fanfiction-writing mood, so why don't I just combine all those things? So here is a somewhat-researched fic that, unfortunately, does not feature any 1890s dresses (which I love, but really don't fit here at all, so.)
> 
> I haven't written fanfiction in so long lmao

"We're going to Athens."

She isn't asking, isn't suggesting. She is telling. And as she says the words, speaking a dialect of Greek so archaic the rest of them have to struggle to understand it, her motley family forgets she's been going by Andrea these days.

"What are we doing in Athens?" Joseph asks, a little sorry to have to leave this nice house and nicer weather so soon.

Andromache tosses the newspaper down on the table and they move to read it, Joseph and Bastien setting their cards down as Nicholas moves the pot off the flame of the stove so he can join them without burning their supper.

OLYMPIC GAMES TO BE REVIVED, the headline reads.

Joseph skims the article, ever the quick reader, and looks up before either Bastien or Nicholas. "This won't be for another two years," he tells Andromache. "Are you saying we'll go to Athens now, or is this simply something you're putting on our schedules for when it comes closer?"

She shrugs. "I'll need time to establish myself in Greece before the athletes are chosen, so I intend to go as soon as possible. The rest of you can come with me or you can come later." She smiles. "Maybe if you stay out of my hair I'll be able to train better."

Joseph and Nicholas share a look, a silent agreement that she's still the same wonderful flavor of crazy she's always been. Bastien, who hasn't even been with them for a century, furrows his brow as he realizes what Andromache is saying.

"You intend to compete?" he asks, looking back at the article and reading through it again.

"Just like old times," Andromache says simply.

The look of confusion on Bastien's face only deepens. "According to this, the competition will be limited to men." He holds up the paper.

Andromache, Joseph, and Nicholas all laugh in unison, Andromache the most heartily of the three of them. "You may be young, Bastien, but I'd think a few decades with us would be enough to teach you that's never stopped me." She leans across the table and takes the paper from his hand, opening it to the page that features photographs for the stories significant enough to warrant them. She taps on one, an image of a group of men standing with bicycles. "Athletics have changed since Theodosius shut down the old Olympic Games. They're a lot more clothed these days, and while I have mixed feelings about that, I won't pretend it doesn't make it a lot more convenient for me to get in on the action." 

Bastien hums, impressed by her foresight. "And here I was, assuming you were just going to find a way to make them let women participate."

Andromache purses her lips, considering the suggestion. "It would be more faithful to the original games…" she says. "I won a few laurels of my own back in the day, entering horses into races."

It's news to all of them, and Nicholas and Joseph join Bastien in his impressed expression. 

"As much as I'd love to extend these new games to women, I don't think I can build up the reputation to do it in time. Who knows? If 1896 goes well, maybe we can push for women in 1900," she decides. "Let you boys be the test subjects. Immortal or not, even I have limits."

Nicholas turns back to the stove to continue cooking, and Joseph picks up his cards, nodding for Bastien to do the same. "So, boss," Nicholas calls over his shoulder. "Which event are you planning to win?"

"Now you're asking the important questions," Andromache says. She flips back to the article with a grin and looks it over. "I haven't decided yet."

…

Though Bastien initially resolves to stay in Cuba with Joseph and Nicholas until they reconvene with Andrea -- though the occasional letters she sends are signed Andreas Samaras, the identity Bastien helped her fashion before sending her off to Greece -- he quickly tires of third-wheeling them and spends a few months helping local revolutionaries prepare for the brewing war against Spain before he heads off to find Andreas in Greece.

For their part, Joseph and Nicholas help out once that revolution stops being a looming threat and turns into something real, but Andreas reminds them in the winter of 1895 that they had better get their asses to Athens come spring. They keep fighting until they need to get on a boat, at which point they fake their deaths (or rather, they do die and sneak off without letting anyone miss their corpses) and stow away on a cargo ship until Palermo.

Their whole family reunites in what the Greeks call the middle of March. Andreas spends a week showing them her favorite parts of the region and relaying every detail she remembers from her time in Greece fifteen hundred years before.

“You look good with short hair, boss,” Joseph comments when he first sees her. She runs her hand through the close-cropped style and nods.

“I have to say, I’ve really taken to it. Maybe it’ll come into fashion for women to wear our hair short with the new century,” she replies.

In the past year and a half she’s made Andreas Samaras into a little-known athlete in the local scene, an unsurprising choice to throw his hat in the ring who won’t be looked at too closely to notice he’s not technically a man and not technically Greek, but not so well-known he won’t be able to disappear after the games are over. 

She leads them on a run backwards along the planned marathon route two days before the opening ceremony, winding their way back to the center of Athens after their wandering takes them away. She tells them her plans as they run and, though her legs pound the path easily and she’s barely broken a sweat when they finish the 40-kilometer course, she’s only competing in the shot put and discus. She hasn’t made up her mind yet whether she’ll take first place or stay mostly unremarkable and settle for third, and she doesn’t think she’ll decide until she’s on the field. 

They return to the small house in the northwest corner of the city where Andrea has been living. She gets her rest and Bastien goes out, mingling with the French tourists for a night. Nestled together in the parlor, Joseph whispers in Nicholas’ ear about how good a marksman he is and how easily he could win one of the shooting events and how romantic a gift one of those medals would be and Nicholas rolls his eyes and calls him evil for saying it in that tone and Joseph knows when he sees that smile that he’ll find his way into the competition.

…

They watch the opening ceremony in the crowded Panathenaic Stadium, picking out Andreas’s face in the crowd of Greek athletes that dwarfs the other countries’ groups and quietly poking fun at the group of spectators next to them who don’t understand Greek. Andrea finds them after the opening ceremony as they make their way to the Panathinaiko Stadium to watch her in the discus throw. She’s favored to do well, as one of a handful of competitors with any experience at all.

Bastien bets liberally on her as the first few competitors throw their first discuses, then puts even more money on an upset after Andreas Samaras’s first throw is good, but not impressive. Just shy of 26 meters, the toss puts her squarely in third. They watch her hurl the discus with impeccable form, her muscles straining with effort. Her arms shine in the sunlight and as the discus leaves her grasp Nicholas leans over and whispers to Joseph, “Did she oil herself up?”

They miss the rest of the first round of throws laughing at the realization that she had, presumably for “old times’ sake,” lathered her skin with oil.

When, on the second throw, Andreas Samaras barely surpasses 20 meters and scolds himself so vigorously the furthest spectator can see his disappointment, Bastien doubles down and puts more money on him taking first place. The look on Andromache’s face is one they all know. Andromache the Scythian has not made a mistake. She does not falter. 

She’s putting on a show.

Andreas’ next throw pulls her back to third place, barely beating out a fellow Grecian competitor to go on to the last two throws. The three remaining competitors hurled their penultimate discuses, all landing within a tenth of a meter of each other. The men with whom Bastien made bets begin chiding him over the consistent third-place performance of the man he’d been so adamant would win. In response, Bastien simply crosses his arms and peers out over the field with an expression halfway between disinterest and expectation as the athletes line up for their fifth and final throw. 

All three of the finalists’ last throw is their best. The other two men eke out slight improvements over their previous distances. Andreas glances up into the marble stadium and makes direct eye contact with Bastien, Joseph, and Nicholas. She winks, almost imperceptibly, then winds herself up and hurls the discus across the field.

Bastien holds his hand out to the men he knows, in a moment, will owe him a lot of money before the discus lands. When it finally does, it’s past the thirty-meter mark, nearly a fifth of a meter further than the next-best throw. The men, mostly Greek and one northern Italian with whom Nicholas has been talking, practically riot at the upset, but hand over Bastien’s winnings and join them for drinks following the medal ceremony. They get on with Andreas even better than with Bastien, and before parting ways they wish Andreas luck in the shot put tomorrow.

Joseph leads a pleasantly drunk Andreas, Bastien, and Nicholas back to their house and they all collapse, never ones to turn down a good night’s rest even in the midst of celebration.

…

Andreas wins the shot put, too, for good measure, beating out the same American man for first place, though the competition is less thrilling than the previous day’s discus competition. The win is much more marginal and Andromache’s showmanship less obnoxious, a reflection of her worry that too much success could make it trickier for them to go unnoticed once they moved on. She’s careful not to let any photographers catch her, and after her second medal ceremony she joins the others to watch some of the other events.

Andreas stays Andreas throughout the games, though in the privacy of the house Andrea relishes how much easier it is to pass herself off as a man in everyday attire than in athletic wear. They spend several days watching competitions, Nicholas and Joseph peeling off now and again to explore more of the city Bastien and Andrea had months to get to know.

On the fifth day of events, they make their way to Marathon to watch the beginning of the long-distance race that shares the city’s name. Andrea talks for hours with a woman who looks older than her thirty years, bitter over her exclusion from the event. The woman tells of her childhood spent running long distances and says she is hardy despite her thin frame and knows she could run the whole 40 kilometers -- unlike many of the actual competitors, it turns out. Her wide eyes sparkle with vindication when Andrea tells her of the women who, in a roundabout way, did receive accolades in the ancient Olympic games.

When they get back to Athens it’s barely evening, but Nicholas goes straight back to the house, claiming he wants to get extra rest before the first day of the 300 meter free rifle competition tomorrow. When Joseph follows him to the house, Andrea and Bastien share an eye roll and enjoy the night out amongst several of the other athletes and countless spectators from near and far.

They go out to Kallithea for Nicholas’s shooting event and watch him hit his mark every single time. None of them are surprised, though on the way back to Athens after the first day of the event Andrea’s eyes shine with tears.

“She would have done even better than you if she could be here,” Andrea murmurs, closing her eyes and leaning her head back until her eyes clear. None of them have to ask who she’s talking about.

Back in Athens, Andrea is cheered to learn that the woman she spoke with in Marathon has arrived in town, having run the course a day late. Andrea finds her and they talk again, until Nicholas practically has to drag Andrea home before she brings the woman with her.

The next morning they go back to Kallithea and Nicholas holds on to his perfect marksmanship, even as his eyes wander to the stands where Joseph -- and his other friends, but they’re not the ones distracting him -- watches. 

Anything they need from the house, Andrea and Bastien and Joseph have brought to the shooting range with them. They linger there after the medal ceremony, buying food off the street, and wander to the shore where they eat and lounge and talk and don’t bother to attend the closing ceremonies.

“So how did it hold up?” Joseph asks, holding up the silver medal Nicholas had immediately handed over to him to the light, his other hand tangling with Nicholas’s. “Has this modern revival done justice to what you remember? Quelled your nostalgia?”

“I was not nostalgic,” Andrea protests, but the way she looks out into the sea makes it clear that even if she isn’t originally Greek, she still holds a fondness for when she was associated with the region. “It was fun. I do think if I ever participate in another one of these, it’ll have to be as… as close to myself as I can get away with. I have nothing against men, but I don’t know how you don’t get tired of being them.”

Bastien elbows her in the ribs just as jokingly as her comment while Nicholas laughs, “I don’t know, you seemed pretty ready to be that blond woman’s man last night…”

And they keep laughing, relishing in their rare moment where they are all together and all safe, the Mediterranean sun shining down on them, and even though the world around them is speeding up, they take a moment to feel like champions.


End file.
